


our choices

by arochill



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Dissociation, Gen, Hurt Din Djarin, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28025844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arochill/pseuds/arochill
Summary: Din was used to being alone. His choices came out of necessity, but they were never truly difficult ones.It wasn’t until Grogu that the hard choices came – the terrible, unforgettable, unchangeable choices.(He couldn’t allow himself to regret it.)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 184





	our choices

**Author's Note:**

> (Quick Warning. This is based on Chapter 15. I had a lot of feelings about Chapter 15.)

The weight of his helmet was heavy in his hands. It felt  _ wrong,  _ in every sense of the word, and he forced himself not to look down at it because then it would become real and despite everything, he didn’t want it to be real. But he knew, without a doubt, that the weight of his helmet in his hands were there. And the memory of removing it, of making that choice, would forever be scarred into his brain in a way he would never be able to forget.

He had been glad, at the very least, to put another helmet on. Even if it wasn’t the same. Even if it was just as wrong.

Mayfeld had been right.

He changed the rules to suit his circumstances.

But, he told himself, he didn’t have any other choice.

But, he told himself, this was the only way.

He told himself as they traveled to the base, wearing armour that was not his own, that this was all for the child. 

His body worked on automatic the entire time. Move left, shoot your blaster. Duck, move closer, push them off the vehicle. Keep moving, keep breathing. Keep focused. Keep fighting.

Always,  _ always  _ keep fighting.

Din could lie. He could lie and say that he had been fine up until he took off his helmet. He could lie and say he had been fine even when he  _ didn’t  _ have the helmet on. He could lie, and he could pretend that it didn’t feel like he was being suffocated the second he had taken it off.

Din was a lot of things. He was a bounty hunter. He was Mandalorian. He was Din Djarin and he obeyed a creed he had pledged himself to so very, very long ago.

He lied, a lot. But never to himself.

Their eyes were on him. He could feel them, even if he couldn’t see them. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he wanted to pull the helmet back over his head and  _ run  _ and never look at anyone ever again. He wanted a lot of things.

Din hadn’t made choices based on his own thoughts in a long time. His mind was a stream of words – repetitive and loud and constant.

_ For Grogu. _

_ For your  _ ad’ika.

Always, always for him.

The moment he removed his helmet, the panic resided and was replaced with a feeling he hadn’t felt in a while. A  _ lack  _ of feeling. A lack of feeling he knew should worry him but, in that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care about.

He knew, on the outside he looked panicked. He knew there was sweat dripping down his face and that his hands were shaking as he clutched the helmet in his hands with a force that he  _ knew  _ would bruise his fingers by the time he let go.

He knew, he  _ did,  _ but he didn’t care.

Mayfeld’s eyes kept flickering towards his face and it left his throat closed up and he was  _ so glad  _ that Mayfeld was speaking because he didn’t think he could, even if he tried. He wasn’t sure if he was even  _ breathing  _ at that pointing.

Mayfeld called him  _ Brown Eyes _ and Din knew it wasn’t mocking, but his mind shouted  _ wrong wrong wrong  _ because no one should know that.  _ No one.  _

Mayfeld’s blaster firing had Din taking in a sharp breath and moving on instinct. The shots were fast, and dangerous, and there were more eyes on him than ever but Mayfeld was quick and just kept shooting.

Then there was a familiar weight in his hands as Mayfeld picked up his helmet and shoved it into his grasp.

“You did what you had to. I never saw your face.”

Din was thankful.

(But a part of him, hollow and tired and knowing, knew it would forever be a lie.)

Din knew the cost of his choices.

For a long time, he was alone. For a long time, his choices had been easy. Removing his helmet for  _ anything  _ had never been one of those choices. It didn’t matter if he was hurt, or dying.

It was always The Way. It had never been anything else.

The Way had never accounted for losing his  _ ad. _

Despite it all, he didn’t regret it.

For Grogu, he would brace against the feeling of losing something he could never get back. He would stand through the panic and the hollow feeling in his soul, and he would accept it. For Grogu, he would stare the universe in the face.

For Grogu, he would do anything.

That was his choice.

That was his Way.

**Author's Note:**

> I had feelings after that last episode. Yeah. I hope you enjoyed, at least!
> 
> Comments sustain me, please throw them my way if you want :)
> 
> (Mandoa -  
> ad’ika / “little one” or “kid”  
> ad / “son” or “daughter”)


End file.
